


Fire at the Heart of the World

by alacarton



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alacarton/pseuds/alacarton
Summary: Caitlin moved to the city of Redcliffe to pursue her dreams; new job, new home, new life.The gorgeous watch commander of the local fire service that lives across the hall is just an added bonus.But as their relationship grows, old secrets and new troubles threaten to burn them both.Modern Thedas AU. Firefighter!Cullen with a heavy load of baggage, and a Trevelyan desperate to find out the truth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta @heffalumps for casting her fantastic eye over this here little ditty of mine and fixing every horrendous mistake I make - she's the best! 
> 
> As with just about everything I write, this started as a quick one-shot, and has spiralled into something far more. The rating may be upped later once Cullen and Caitlin get to...know each other.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and as always, comments, criticisms, complaints are all welcomed with open arms!

The first time they met, it was the very definition of ‘bumping into each other’.

Caitlin had always imagined the sun would pour from the sky on the day she moved to her first home, that rainbows would shine above the very building and the birds would sing her an entrance chorus. That’s what TV made it look like, anyway.

So far, she’d managed to get herself soaked through to her pants in the rain, smashed both a photo frame and soap dish, and stubbed her toe at least twice. To make matters even worse, the elevator was out ofa order and the boxes seemed to be getting heavier and heavier.

_So much for the rainbows and birds._

This was supposed to be her fresh start. A new job, with the largest newspaper in Thedas, as a journalist for the _Redcliffe Daily_. That had always been her dream - move to a big city, get a fast paced job and carve herself out an oh so metropolitan life. Thanks to her closest friend, Josephine, she’d been headhunted for a position with Ferelden News Inc, and when the most gorgeous apartment had appeared on the market, with perhaps the prettiest city view she had ever seen, Caitlin had jumped at the chance. A whole new country, a brand new home in the bustling city of Redcliffe… she should’ve been excited. Josephine most certainly had.

_'Oh, how good it will be to have you close by once more! Think of the fun we will have!'_

In all fairness, the excitement was still present but moving large boxes to the sixth floor was quickly tiring her out, and Caitlin could feel the grumblings of hunger and the dull ache of a headache coming on. She had been battling with an especially large box of pots and pans that had been far heavier than she had anticipated when her luck finally gave out at the bottom of the stairwell. They wobbled, and they tipped, and Caitlin was preparing for a black eye when the quick thinking of a pair of strong arms had saved both her and their owner’s head from the certain doom of a steel lid to the face. Caitlin stared at the miraculously contained box, pans teetering close to the edge, before shamefully bursting in apologies, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m such a clumsy oaf! I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there, I-”

  
“It’s alright, honestly. Let me give you a hand with that. It’s a bugger when the lift is out.” The tall, broad shoulders and blonde head of curls that appeared from behind the box took her by surprise, but not nearly as much as the bright, golden eyes that followed, framed by long darker lashes and accompanied by a lopsided grin that seemed to light the room.

_Maker above, he was gorgeous._

“Oh…” Caitlin stared at him, before her senses seemed to quickly return. “Well, only if you’re sure.” He took the box wordlessly as confirmation that he was indeed _sure._ They stood, staring at one another, before Caitlin became aware that the reason they were doing so was that only she knew of the items’ intended destination. “Oh...right. Yes. I’m upstairs, I’m just moving in.”

“So the boxes overloaded with saucepans would suggest.”

“It’s my last box, I’ll have you know.” The stranger’s smile stretched into a grin, confirming his gentle mockery of her situation, and Caitlin huffed as they climbed the final sets of stairs before stopping on the sixth floor, fumbling for the keys in her pocket. Her newfound friend stared at her, blinking in surprise, before gesturing towards her apartment door.

“You’re the new tenant of 6A then?”

The key turned in the lock, Caitlin pushing the door open before cocking her head to one side, nodding. “Yes. I’m Caitlin.”

“Well, yes, I suppose that’d be right. Sorry... I should introduce myself.” Her valiant saviour chuckled and placed the large box on the ground, before offering a hand, an awkward but kind smile on his face. “I’m Cullen. I... live across the hall with my flatmate, Rylen, in 6B. He’s out right now but I’ll be sure to let him know you’ve moved in.”

“Right…Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Cullen.” _That was stating the obvious._ Friendly, polite and easy on the eyes - maybe the rainbows and birds hadn’t materialised, but she’d take him instead. _Keep it cool, Trevelyan._

“Likewise. Are you from around here?” At her inquisitive look, the man shrugged, quickly continuing. “It’s just, your accent...you sound like you are from the Free Marches.”

His earlier confidence has somewhat dissipated, and the shy curiosity made her chuckle. “You’ve got a good ear. I’m from Ostwick, in the north of the Marches.”

“I see… I lived in Kirkwall, for a time. Before I moved back home here, to Ferelden...” Cullen’s hand found the back of his neck, awkward and unsure, before he cleared his throat, glancing towards the open door. “I should let you get moved in. I’m sure you’ve got lots to do and you don’t need me distracting you. If you need anything, please just knock, we’d be happy to help.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll never get rid of my hopeless self...and thank you, y’know, for the help.” Caitlin waved a hand at the piled box at her feet. “Saving my saucepans and all that.”

“Anytime.” Cullen chuckled, before crossing the hall and unlocking the apartment door and, with a quick glance back, disappeared inside. Almost immediately, Caitlin groaned into her scarf, cursing her very existence as her forehead met the doorframe.

_Saving my saucepans. Andraste’s ass Caitlin, where did you pull that one from? He must think you are a complete idiot. What kind of person tries to drop an entire box of steel pans on their neighbour, and then comes out with something like that? He’ll avoid you like the plague now. Welcome to Redcliffe, you idiot._

 

* * *

  
After the near disaster that was her welcoming to Redcliffe, Caitlin found she settled in fairly quickly. The apartment soon became home to her, little touches of her own quickly making it comfortable and cosy. Her mother seemed to have stocked her with enough candles to last until the next age, and there was nothing Caitlin found more relaxing than curling up on the large sofa with several lit, a book in hand, looking out over the darkened city as night fell.

She had no further _incidents_ with her neighbours - indeed, her interactions had been (disappointingly) limited. They passed from time to time on the stairs, or in the laundry room; brief, polite and friendly as always. From what she could tell, both Cullen and his flatmate worked long shifts - well, judging by the amount of parcels she received on Rylen’s behalf, anyway. She hadn’t had the chance to ask just what they did.

 _Her_ workplace had proven to be everything she had imagined, and then some. The glittering building of the _Redcliffe Daily_ welcomed her in each morning, and in amongst the coffee runs, meetings and conferences, Caitlin found her place. Her editor already had her working on several projects she had expressed an interest in, and she was thankful for it. Strict and precise, prompt and punctual, Cassandra Pentaghast ran a tight ship - but Caitlin couldn’t help but feel beneath it, she was not as cold as she would like to have the world believe. She was a stern woman, with short dark hair and a piercing gaze, but fair, honest and kind when she needed to be. Caitlin had settled in at the office with ease, and found her colleagues warm and approachable (save for Solas, the political editor who kept himself _very much_ to himself). Josephine, by the luck of the draw, was in the same office, only a few desks down, and the two women often spent coffee break together, discussing their latest stories and planning movie nights with a bottle of wine.

Today’s assignment was less of her usual investigative work and more plain old journalism. A building fire at one of the homes on Amaranthine Street. Simple local stories that would be the fodder for the morning print. She was to go down and see if there was a story to be had, something to fill the pages. It seemed simple enough, but the city was still somewhat of a maze to her, and by the time Caitlin had found the correct street, the fire had been doused, and the crowd had mostly dispersed. She noted one police vehicle, it’s officers seemingly interviewing somebody, and instead ducked around the side of one of the large fire engines, hoping for luck. As it happened, luck was on her side - a suited firefighter stood at the side of it, humming as he tucked equipment back into the side compartments, and Caitlin cleared her throat as she approached.

“Excuse me. I wonder if I could have a word.” She needn’t have been so polite. As soon as the man turned to her, she could have laughed - familiar sharp features, sparkling blues eyes and a wild mop of dark hair gave him away instantly. “Well, well, Rylen. So this is where you are when I am signing for all of your parcels.”

Rylen cracked into a grin, leaning an elbow against the vehicle. Far cockier than his well-mannered room mate, but equally as charming in his own way. She would never have admitted it, but she’d developed a soft spot for Rylen in the short time she had known him.   “Caitlin Trevelyan. What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were press.”

“I didn’t know _you_ were a fireman.”

“Guess it’s a learning experience for both of us, huh? Well, if you’re here for some high-drama scoop, I’m afraid you’re all out of luck.” He dangled what she could barely recognise as a chicken from his gloved hand, charred to near cinders, and laughed as she drew back, repulsed. “Someone was feeling a little _peckish_ and put dinner in. Then promptly fell asleep on the sofa.”

Caitlin pulled a face, brow creasing. “Oh. That’s...unfortunate.”

“Well, it was for a chicken. And the owner’s kitchen too.”

“Rylen!” A figure approached them, glancing back at the house over his shoulder as he walked, and Caitlin felt her stomach spin - o _f course it was him_ . _Where there was smoke, there was fire. How apt._ “I’m going to start writing the incident report, get Delrin to-” The man stopped, bright, golden eyes widening in surprise, her presence catching him by surprise. His usually neat curls were splayed beneath the helmet, soot dusting the front ones, and ash almost as powder on his cheeks. The bulky uniform and heavy equipment made him seem so much taller than usual but it could be nobody else.

“Hello, Cullen.”

“Caitlin.”

He blinked once more in surprise, and her words seemed to twist in her mouth, before managing to stumble over an explanation. “I’m here with work, my editor sent me down. They were looking for a late story to add to our print run...” She saw him eye the ‘press’ pass around her neck, before Rylen butted in, chicken swinging from his hand.

“I’ve told her there’s not much to see, no... _fowl_ play after all.”

“You’ve been waiting to use that one, haven’t you?” Cullen’s exasperated tone was betrayed by the glimmer of humour in his eyes, before he looked back to Caitlin. “The homeowners are with the police, if you want to talk to them. You could always run a story on remembering not to fall asleep with your Sunday roast cooking…Might save us a little time in the future, and maybe someone’s kitchen.”

The tug of a smirk at the edges of his lips made her laugh, the small glimpse behind his careful facade of serious professionalism, and she drummed her fingers on her notepad. “Is that an official statement for me?”

His smirk widened with a chuckle, shaking his head, before a shout of ‘ _Commander!’_ came from the building, Cullen turning to answer. Caitlin peered at him, raising a curious eyebrow, before looking to Rylen, who grinned with a pointed finger.

“Now you know why he’s a hardass. Don’t let him fool you, he’s only in charge for the fancy hat though. The yellow clashes with his angelic curls, the white suits him much better.”

Caitlin suppressed a giggle, before tapping a finger to the front of Rylen’s helmet. “And yet, they only painted half of yours white? For shame.”

“Ah, my lady. I could only aspire to such a majestic helmet.”

“Don’t egg him on.” Cullen had turned back to them, immediately looking as though he regretted it as Rylen cackled in glee.

“ _Egg_. Hilarious. You’re funny after all!”

Cullen rolled his eyes, before another shouted reply came for him from the building, and he gave her an apologetic smile with a sigh. “Sorry, I’ll have to catch you later. Good luck with your story... Rylen, get rid of that thing before I see you again.” He prodded at the chicken in the man’s hand, before he was gone, trudging back into the mix of smoke and debris around the building.

“As you can see, being second in command gets all the fun jobs,” Rylen whined, before sighing, his grin reappearing, offering her a wave as he headed back towards the house. “I’ll see you later on, Trevelyan. Good luck on your story!”

There may not have been a story for the paper, but this latest revelation would be the subject of a significantly long text to her best friend later, Caitlin was sure of it. _Firefighters. That explained the long shifts...and the muscles._ The very thought brought a blush to her cheeks, and instantly she chastised herself - she was not some blushing schoolgirl. But as Cullen paused in his discussion with another firefighter long enough to catch her eye, and for the faintest hint of a smile to rise on his face, she was sure that’s what she must have looked like.

_Maker above._

 

* * *

  
  
_You should just ask for his number, you know. Let’s have a movie night and discuss it._

Josephine was always full of _bold_ ideas.

Caitlin practically glared down at her phone, tossing it aside and instead focusing on gathering her laundry from the dryer and shepherding it into the basket. Oh yes, just waltz up to the door and beg the man she barely knew parted with his phone number because what? Because she’d seen him in a firefighter’s uniform and was another typical drooling idiot? That’s what he’d think, anyway. It had been nearly two weeks since the last time they had met. How on earth would one even open that conversation? Maker, she barely knew the man.

With the last of her socks carefully contained, Caitlin traipsed back up the stairs to her apartment, her friend’s text weighing on her mind. _A movie night._ So Josie could chastise her for being unable to hold a normal conversation, or appear anything other than some kind of creepy stalker? _A delightful idea,_ she huffed as she took up residence on the sofa to sort her clothes.

While unpacking her laundry from the basket, however, Caitlin realised she had acquired stowaways; a large t-shirt emblazoned a figure dressed in uniform and _‘Red Watch: We Put Out’_ underneath, and a boldly coloured pair of boxer shorts, patterned with the faces of cartoon dogs. She stared at them for a moment, confused, before a sinking feeling came over her. Well, they certainly weren’t hers - but she had a fairly good idea of their owner’s location, from the name written on the label at the back, and the sneaky suspicion had _Josephine_ been here, this would be called ‘an opportunity’.

There was no choice but to face up to the situation, and as she crossed the corridor and knocked at the door, Caitlin wondered just what she was going to say. _Hi there. I found your underwear with my underwear._ Maker, no _,_ she couldn’t say that. _I didn’t steal them, I swear._ That was even worse.

She had been expecting Rylen, and the swagger than seemed to announce his arrival, to open the door. He was certainly pleasant enough, if lovably cocky - the kind of character who could insult you in one breath, and have you doe-eyed the next. They’d met now and then, usually when Rylen appeared following a late night and was complaining loudly about having to climb the stairs thanks to their _lazy ass-manager and his cheap-ass refusal to fix the elevator._

Instead, she was greeted with a bleary eyed Cullen; dressed in dark cotton sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, still half asleep, golden curls unruly and wild with a smattering of blonde stubble. He seemed surprised to find her at the other side of the door, blinking in the morning sunlight, before straightening up, brushing errant curls from his face.

“Oh, uh...good morning.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He did look as though she had pulled him from his very bed, despite it being past ten o’clock.

“No, no, it’s alright…” He paused, glancing backwards into the apartment, before offering her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Slow morning here. It was a late night.”

Caitlin peered over his shoulder to where Rylen snored, sprawled across the sofa with the remains of a kebab in a take-out box on the floor, and a headband made of glowsticks sat neatly upon the shock of dark tangles that was his bed-head. “Oh, I heard. Something about ‘Waka Waka Wednesdays and their buy-one-get-one-free shots?”

Cullen visibly cringed before sighing. “I’m sorry if he woke you, he tends to be a tad forgetful. We’ve had a rough week, the boys were out blowing off steam and it appears he had plenty to… well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll chew him out for you when he awakens. My apologies. I hope he didn’t keep you awake too long.”

“I can handle it.” Caitlin paused, glancing over him, before her lips raised in a grin. “You look like you had a good night too.”

Cullen folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow. “Well, if you can call midnight paperwork and leftover chow mein a ‘good night’, I suppose I did.”

That stopped her smugness in its tracks, and her grin dropped. “You weren’t out with him?”

“No, I…” He offered her a near apologetic smile, a hand finding the back of his blonde curls in an awkward gesture. “I don’t really drink, and I was working, I had some stuff to catch up on… As a watch commander, I’ve got a lot of paperwork. I find it easier to work at night. It’s quieter, I guess.”

 _A watch commander_ . She couldn’t confess to being an expert on their national fire service, but from what she knew, he was young for the role, and the responsibilities that came with it. _Maybe that explained the all too serious look his face usually wore._ “I guess that explains the fancy hat the other day.”

That brought a laugh out of him. “Yes. A fancy hat and lots of paperwork.”

“Sounds delightful... I guess it also explains this t-shirt that I found mixed in my laundry. I was coming to ask if you had any clues as to its owner.” Caitlin gave an amused chuckle, holding up the large t-shirt, and the blonde immediately cringed once more, cheeks flooding with colour, shuffling in place.

“Maker’s breath, that... that’s Rylen’s. I’m sorry, I’ll give it to him...”

“Oh...are these his too?” The brightly coloured boxer shorts dangled from one dainty finger, grin spreading. “Only, they _also_ have your name on them.”

The silence as he snatched the offending items was deafening, his cheeks burning scarlet. “...In my defence, the shirt is a momento from a station night out… and the boxers were a christmas present.” The mumbled reply was broken only by a shy grin, tugging at the corners of his mouth, a glimmer of the same boyish humour she’d seen before. _It suited him._ “Are you hiding any more of my clothing?”

“No fear, you’re free for now.” Caitlin faltered as their eyes met, before waving a hand towards her side of the hall. “You know, if you ever want company, I’m not much for going out either. I...well, just knock, yeah? I make a mean roast dinner, if you’re ever keen.”

Cullen was clearly unprepared for the offer, the colour on his cheeks burned on, but a very genuine smile rose on his face despite the laughter. “That’s... very kind of you to offer. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“And I promise not to burn it.”

“I’ll remain thankful for that.” He paused, Caitlin turning to leave before almost tripping over his next question. “Did you get your story, the other day?”

“Not exactly…” She turned back to him, putting a hand on her hip. “The editor decided we should look into doing a joint safety campaign instead. Hadn’t you heard?”  
  
“Really? No, nothing.” His eyes lit up, voice instantly lifting; Caitlin hadn’t quite expecting that. “Well, that’s… something to look forward to. Will you be working on it?”

His rather keen enthusiasm was enough to give her butterflies; her mind wanted her to believe that he was simply the biggest nerd and was _actually_ interested more in the project itself. “I should think so. Is that alright?”

“Of course, I would love to- I mean, that is…” His reply crashed to a halt, and the blush on his cheeks had returned, brighter than ever. He took a breath, swallowing, before offering her the same shy little grin. “At least I know you can do your job, right?”

“I should hope so.” Caitlin gave him a smile. “I guess I’ll see you around then.”

“That you will...and thank you again for...returning these.” They both laughed, Cullen shaking his head, and as the door closed, Caitlin once again could have screamed into the void. _If you’re ever keen. For the love of the Maker, how desperate could she sound?_

Interrupting her mental berating, a colossal groan of what she assumed was Rylen being awoken came from behind the door, the gruff voice floating into the corridor.

_“Who was that at this time of the morning?”_

_“Caitlin. You woke her last night with your antics.”_ Cullen sounded far more annoyed with him than she had been expecting - maybe she hadn’t been quite as awkward as predicted.

 _“Caaaaaitlin.”_ The tease in Rylen’s voice was unmistakable. _“Are you defending her? How cute. Maker, better get a hose on those cheeks of yours, Rutherford, before it spreads to a four alarm fire.”_

_“Shut up, you ass. All I said was your drunken self woke her up and that’s not on.”_

_“Hey, I’m just saying. You like her, she’s a pretty girl, she was definitely eyeing you up the other day. You should speak to her more. Plus, everyone loves a man in uniform, you could offer to strip fo- hey, no throwing things at the hungover, take a little pity!”_

The curse, followed by the laughter from inside, broke the spell and Caitlin wanted to laugh along - Cullen? Blushing over her? Surely it had just been the boxer shorts? Trust Rylen to notice a _second glance._ She wanted to protest it had hardly been _eyeing up_ , more...appreciating. An appreciative glance towards him after he had given her some kind of hint for her story. Yes. That was it. Of course.

Realising she was, in fact, now _eavesdropping_ , Caitlin crossed the corridor quickly, waiting until she was safely back inside her own apartment before pulling out her phone, opening Josephine’s earlier message and reading it back over. _Damn that woman._ She hesitated, before quickly typing a response.

_‘Okay. 7pm, mine. Bring wine.’_


	2. Chapter 2

The next three weeks seemed to pass in a blur of work, dinner with Josephine, still finding boxes to unpack around her increasingly homely apartment and somehow Caitlin still found time to settle in to the city. She’d signed up to the local gym, mainly for the use of the pool, and had also joined the library -  _ between work and pleasure, she may as well move in to the place.  _ She’d joined the rest of the team on a work night out and quickly regretted it the next morning when her head had pounded. But it had been a good night - Leliana had stories that could span an entire night, and Cassandra, as it happened, had near sobbed over the spoilers for  _ Swords and Shields’  _ newest episode.

Caitlin had seen head nor tail of her neighbours, save for meeting what seemed like half of a the city coming down the stairs after vacating their apartment on one Saturday afternoon. It didn’t take her long to realise it was football season (that explained the matching shirts) and the cheers from across the hall the next weekend made  _ far _ more sense. She’d met the woman that lived below her (Mary, who was nearly 64 and had offered to make meatloaf on several occasions) and the couple on the floor below that (who looked as though they should still be in high school, and clung to each other at every second of their conversation), but not a blonde, curly hair had been sighted.

That was why, to her surprise, it was late on a Thursday afternoon that Caitlin’s inbox lit up with an email that was, for lack of a better phrase,  _ most interesting _ . It took her a moment of staring at the screen, re-reading what was written, before it seemed to sink in, and she scrolled through the email chain with giddy excitement.

 

_ Caitlin, _

_ I have forwarded this to you, as this project will be yours moving forward. Watch Manager Cullen Rutherford at the Redcliffe Central Station has kindly agreed to liase with us on this. Please see his details below and get in touch. _

__ \- Cassandra _ _

 

 

Rutherford. It suited him, she decided. There were several attachments, large files by the look of it; so much for a ‘small’ project _.  _ Caitlin ignored them, making a mental note to read them later, before the original conversation appeared, and she sped through the text, heart pounding.

 

_ Miss Pentaghast,  _

_ I look forward to working with your office on this. Please have Miss Trevelyan let me know when she would be available so we can schedule an opportunity to discuss this project. _

__ \- W.M. C. Rutherford _ _

 

 

Caitlin wasted no time in hitting the reply button, fingers dancing across the keyboard.

 

_ Mr Rutherford, _

_ I’d be delighted to discuss this project and am looking forward to working on it. I am free this afternoon and early evening if you wish to discuss our early step. _

__ \- Caitlin Trevelyan _ _

 

 

She seemed to stare at the screen as soon as it was sent, fingers drumming against the wood of her desk. To her disappointment, there was no immediate response ( _as was perfectly reasonable)._ She busied herself with other pieces, half-heartedly scrolling through the rest of her emails until a notification appeared that she had her reply.

 

_ Miss Trevelyan, _

_ I am on duty until 7 this evening. You’re welcome to come down to the station later on if it suits you. _

__ \- Cullen _ _

 

 

_ Cullen _ . Formalities dropped after all. She glanced at time; It was past 4pm already. She could drop in on the way back to the apartment, it was enroute home anyway. She'd have time to stop for something to eat, and then see him. Gathering her things, Caitlin began to pack them into her rucksack, doing her best to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Josephine, of course, was not to be fooled, and noticed the grin on her face. Despite her hurry, the Antivan managed to steal herself away from her desk to quiz her before she could escape. 

“What are you smiling at?”

“Can I not just be happy, Josephine?”

Her friend’s eyes narrowed, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. “Where are you going? Do you have a good lead?”   
  
“I guess you could call it that.”

 

* * *

 

It was a gorgeous summer’s evening, and she was almost glad of the detour simply to enjoy seeing the city at its best. The large central park opposite the fire station was filled with people taking the same pleasure she did; families walking around the large pond, the small grass pitches full of shouting and cheers as a game of football was played, friends and lovers relaxing in the last of the day’s sunshine.

There was laughter as she approached the station house, the large doors of the bay open, and filled with noise as what was evidently wash time for the large engines parked inside took place. Caitlin carefully peered around the door, before stepping over the hose trailed along the ground. It was an alien environment, not somewhere she could have any claim to have knowledge of. The gleaming red engines towered above her, and it struck her just how pristinely clean  _everything_ was, the floor squeaking beneath her shoes as she dodged the buckets of soapy water.  "Hello?"

“Well, well, if it isn’t our favourite journalist.” A familiar face grinned at her, stepping around the shining truck -  _ Rylen _ . “And just what can I help you with, Miss Trevelyan?”

Caitlin was more than aware of the several sets of eyes now watching her from behind Rylen, falling quiet at her appearance. They stared, Caitlin momentarily frozen: why in the Lady’s name did that make her nervous, they all  _ looked  _ friendly enough. Then again, she had just wandered in through the front door with very little warning. “I’m here to see Watch Manager Rutherford, as it happens.”

“ _ Watch Manager Rutherford _ .” Rylen chuckled, setting down the bucket in his hands before wagging a finger at her. “Don’t call him that too often, you’ll inflate that curly head of his with lofty ideas.”

The other men had gone back to their work, chatting amongst themselves, and Caitlin relaxed, before shrugging in response to Rylen. “Well, I can’t claim to be here to do that. I’m pretty clueless about it all anyway - I thought it was a watch  _ commander _ .”

“Manager in the station, commander at an incident.” Rylen’s smirk grew, a twinkle of mischief in those blue eyes. “Or ‘manager in the streets, commander in the sheets’, is what I hear they say.” 

“ _ They  _ being you, Rylen?” The thoroughly unimpressed voice from the side door silenced the other man. Rylen instantly pulled a face as Cullen cocked his head, raising an eyebrow with arms folded across his chest. The dark shirt and trousers of uniform suited him almost  _ too  _ well, neatly shaven with his usually wild curls were smoothed back in a wave. He looked so very different from the bedraggled pyjama-wearing neighbour she’d met previously but  _ Maker  _ was there anything the man didn’t look good in? “Are you quite finished harassing Miss Trevelyan?”

“I would do no such thing.” Rylen mockingly batted his eyelashes, Cullen sighing before his serious frown broke into an apologetic smile on her behalf, motioning for her to join him.

“Come on, we can talk in my office. More chance of some  _ peace and quiet  _ there.” Caitlin giggled as Rylen stuck out his tongue, a murmur of laughter passing through the hall as she stepped from the bay into the corridor, before the doors closed and Cullen shook his head. “He’s a bit of an idiot at times, sorry…”

“I’ve heard much worse.”

They walked along with corridor, awards and framed photos catching Caitlin's eye - medals, shining uniforms, smart line ups of men. The history of it all must be fascinating.

“Well, I think your editor, Cassandra isn't it, wants a fairly in-depth end product, judging by the amount of material she’s sent me.”

“Yes, I got that impression too. I'm expecting my desk to be piled high by tomorrow morning.”

Cullen chuckled, offering her a smile “She’s been emailing me for the past two weeks with documents and ideas. I’ve been working extra shifts, and a lot of nights, I haven’t had a lot of time to reply to her. It was her idea to give the project to you.”

“Which you agreed to?”

  
“Well, of course, I-”

A loud, piercing wail of a siren interrupted him, bulkheads illuminating red along the ceiling of the hallway and the somewhat peaceful bay behind them erupted into activity. It was enough to make her more than jump;  _ she nearly hit the ceiling _ . Cullen, however, barely flinched but the humour in his face dropped instantly.

“Looks like we are going to have to cut this short. Moira can let you out the side door, don’t want you to face off with one of the engines...” He jabbed a finger towards what Caitlin assumed was the  _ official _ entrance through a set of double doors, with a perplexed looking receptionist sat at the desk, before he was gone, with shout back over his shoulder. “I’m sorry! I’ll email tomorrow!”

And he was gone, disappearing through the double doors back into the bay, the loud tones still ringing. Caitlin stared for a moment, before realising  _Moira_ 's hawk-like eyes were on her, and she pushed through the door into the office. The woman was serious faced, to say the least, and Caitlin offered her a smile, waving a hand back at the sudden frenzy of activity.

"Is it always like that?"

"Yes," came the humourless reply, and Caitlin took that as her leave.

 

* * *

 

 

“So what was this lead today?” Josephine was perched on her sofa, television on in the background, a glass of white wine in one dainty hand. The sun had long since set, the city buildings laid out as a beautiful silhouette through the large main window, their lights twinkling brightly. Josephine always managed to look somehow ineffably elegant, regardless of the setting - Caitlin, on the other hand, likely look as though she had been dragged through a bush backwards come the end of the day. “I asked Cassandra where you had disappeared off to, and she said it was for  _ research _ .” She took a sip of her wine, Caitlin glancing over from cooking to meet her expectant gaze.

“It was, for something I’m working on. The  _ research _ is just the beginning of what will hopefully be a very successful project.”

“Is that his name?  _ Research? _ ”

“Very funny, Josie.”

“So what did you discuss?” Josephine shuffled on the sofa, flicking through the channels on the television before stopping at the news. On the screen, the remains of a smouldering home stood behind the reporter, and at the words  _ house fire _ , Caitlin turned from cooking to lean over the back of the sofa, frowning.

“Turn that up.”

Josephine glanced from her to the television, doing as she’d been asked as Caitlin leant in, watching as the reporter spoke, worrying at the corner of her lip. They panned around the burnt out ruin before a familiar face appeared, Caitlin’s breath catching. He looked so very different to how she’d seen him last as he’d disappeared into the fray of the busy station; tired, filthy and with a weary voice, he spoke for the camera.

_ Three casualties taken to hospital. No cause known yet. An investigation to begin. No further comment. _

It wasn’t until a moment later that Caitlin realised Josephine was watching her with a wry smirk rising on her face. “Is this your firefighter across the hall then?”

“He’s not  _ mine,  _ Josie.”

“Not yet, he isn’t.” Caitlin scoffed, Josephine leaning closer to the television with a grin. “He  _ is  _ cute. Those lovely blonde curls, soft and sweet…” 

“Are you quite finished?” Caitlin returned to the food, stirring before dishing the food into bowls and handing one to Josephine with a raised eyebrow. The Antivan said no more, and Caitlin curled up beside her, mixing her food through with a frown as the news switched to the next article.  _ So that was what they had been called to. Maker, note to self to never again complain about a work day.  _ She’d been bothering him about some stupid project whilst  _ this  _ sort of thing was going on. She’d apologise tomorrow, tell him he didn’t need to participate, that-

“Have you told Dorian about him yet?”

Caitlin blinked, looking to Josephine before rolling her eyes. “No, because there is nothing  _ to  _ tell.”

University friend and perhaps closest confidente bar Josephine, Caitlin knew the man well enough that so much as a sniff of gossip would result in Dorian demanding a ten page report on the situation, and at least a dozen pictures. A journalist and writer of incredible talent, and the attitude to boot, Dorian had moved back to his native Tevinter to work with a small team exposing political corruption amongst the government - and as such, had little time for frolicking merrily in the South. Caitlin missed him something terrible, even with regular messaging and video calling. He had a way of making things seem so much easier to manage, with sarcastic humour and a genuine drive to do good.

He also had an ineffable weak spot for dramatic flair, and would revel at even the slightest hint of  _relationship news_. Caitlin wasn't ready for the twenty question grilling that would be.

“Well, I think he should know, nonetheless. I think he would approve of your firefighter too.”

“ _ Josie. _ ”

 

* * *

 

 

On arrival at her desk that morning, there was an email waiting for her as promised, as well as a large stack of papers courtesy of Cassandra (as she had predicted).

_ Miss Trevelyan, _

_ I apologise for the interruption to our discussion yesterday. I trust you saw the news last night. _

_ I am on duty this evening once again if you are free. _

__ \- Cullen _ _

 

 

Caitlin replied that she would be there once more, and spent the day perusing the documents Cassandra had sent her. Interestingly, there was a rather large packet of files regarding a spate of home fires around the city - it made for heavy reading, that was for sure. She scanned over them, noting the pattern beginning to emerge in her mind - residential, all around the same age of building, the same management company and not just in Redcliffe either. How odd. Perhaps Cullen would know more. If he was a watch manager, commander... _thing_ , surely he would have several years service. It struck her that she didn't know how old he was either, and that she couldn't make anything other than a wild guess of somewhere older than teenage-hood, and younger than...30? He had certainly looked much younger before she had seen him smartly dressed in uniform, and then once again on TV.

It was 4pm by the time she finished reading, mind lost amongst the articles. She had barely moved all afternoon, and soon regretted it upon opening her emails and finding another message from Cullen, this time far less pleasing than the last.

 

_ Sorry, we’ve just returned from an incident. Going to have to cancel on you once again. _

_ Will email tomorrow, promise! _

__ \- Cullen _ _

 

 

Caitlin couldn’t say she wasn’t disappointed, but even she was surprised but just  _ how  _ disappointed she currently felt. As she’d walked home that evening, it had nagged at her, annoyed her, and added with the feeling of  _ being annoyed  _ for it bothering her so much. It was a work project, nothing more. The man had priorities, and she was certain were it her in need of help, she would prefer his priorities were not meeting nosey journalists, but rather rescuing her from a burning building. What quickly followed was a rather self-indulgent mental image of him, her, a ladder and a very passionate-  _Maker, behave Caitlin._

The disappointment, however, only seemed to grow as Caitlin opened her inbox the next morning to... _ nothing,  _ not a word from him. She’d been stupid to get so overly excited about a work project, no less. He probably had a hundred different things to do, and this project was at the bottom of a very large pile. Why had she allowed herself to get so excited over this? She barely knew the man, after all, he was only being professional,  _ neighbourly _ , friendly. She always did this, jumping in, letting her heart run away from her head. She should have been used to this by now - excuses. Her father made them ( _ sorry darling, I’ve got to work that entire week) _ , her mother made them ( _ I can’t possibly meet you, I have a gala that evening) _ , even her brother had cottoned on to it.

It seemed to put a cloud over her entire day, and even one of Josephine’s best cupcakes with a large coffee couldn’t shift it. Caitlin had just sat back down with lunch in hand (a pitiful sandwich, to match her mood) when her inbox lit up once more, and in an instant, every particle of self pity had vanished as she clicked on his name in disbelief.

 

_ On until 7 again tonight. Might as well try! Third time lucky?  _

 

Caitlin could almost hear him say it, that same little grin on his face.  _ Damn him. She wanted to be annoyed. Angry even.  _ Her annoyance seemed to melt away however, shifting to her own blame for  _ once again _ jumping in. He'd not forgotten after all. The thought made her chuckle as she replied.

_ I’ll see you at 6. _

 

* * *

 

It was just before 6 that she was there, standing awkwardly in the reception of the station, Moira eyeing her up and down once more. “You again? You’re the journalist?” Caitlin didn’t exactly get the friendly vibe from her question, but she nodded and Moira evidently decided she was no threat. “His office is the third one on the left. He is expecting you.”

Caitlin blinked in surprise, hesitantly following her directions, before stopping at the door, his name in glittering gold upon it, amongst others. Through the window to the office, she could see him pouring over paperwork, muttering to himself with a deep frown. Catching the edge of her lip between her teeth, she knocked, and with a gruff ‘ _ come in _ ’, slipped around the door, closing it behind her. As his eyes lifted to her, there was an instant change in his expression; previous frown melting into a somewhat dazed stare, before he near leapt to his feet, hauling paperwork across the desk to make room for her.

“ _ Oh. _ I didn’t think it would be you, come in!”

“Sorry, I’m a little early.”

“No, no! Here, take a seat.” He gestured to the chair next to him, Caitlin sitting and shrugging off her jacket, Cullen settling back down. Silence held for a moment, before she drummed her fingers against the desk, a sly grin pulling at her mouth.

“Not going to abandon me tonight, are you?”

The beginnings of blush crept onto his face, and he chuckled, an apologetic grin on his face. “I said I was sorry. Shall we try this again?”

Thankfully, they were undisturbed for the remainder of the evening, pouring over a large notepad of ideas together. Caitlin couldn’t help but watch him; the little furrow that formed at the middle of his brow, the tiny poke of his tongue as he concentrated, the blink of bashful surprise as their eyes met and he glanced away, smiling to himself. It wasn’t until nearly ten to the hour, and the arrival of the next watch, that they stopped, Caitlin packing her bag and standing before Cullen caught her gently by the arm.

“Handover shouldn’t take long...If you want to wait, I could walk home with you? I mean, only if you want to.”

“Sure. I’ll wait for you outside, lest Moira come to drag me out for stopping you doing  _ important work _ .”

It seemed it was a good choice - Moira didn’t look too upset to see her leave, and Caitlin took up a spot outside the station, leaning on the wall. Once again, the weather was good - there was one thing she did not miss about Ostwick, with it's wicked wind whipping in from the sea. It was less than ten minutes before Cullen re-appeared, in a simple grey hoodie and jeans, hair mussed and backpack over one shoulder. He looked so much younger - the smile on his face as he saw her only made it more so. 

“Shall we go,  _ Miss Trevelyan _ ?”

“You can call me Caitlin, you know.”

“Hey, I didn’t want your editor biting my head off for being _ impolite _ .”

Caitlin gave a soft laugh, and glanced back at the station door. “Is Rylen not joining us?”   
  
Cullen shook his head, before pulling a face. “He’s got a date he was heading out to.”

“You’re not happy for him?” They began to walk, Caitlin falling in step with him with ease.

“You stop  _ being happy _ after seeing the fifth girl in a month leave in the morning. I don’t think he is after my approval, somehow.”

“Ah…”

They shared a chuckle and headed down the main street, shouts from the football pitches and park filling the air and making simple small talk as they walked.

“How do you like Redcliffe then? Has three months been long enough to convince you to stay, at least for a while?”

Caitlin laughed again. “I like it a lot. It’s taken a little bit of time for me to get used to the noise and the busy street...Ostwick is a lot quieter. I’m more comfortable now.”

“I bet… It has its charms, this place.” Cullen shrugged, offering her a grin. “Well, I am Fereldan, I am biased…” They walked on, turning from the main avenue into the quieter residential streets, the evening sunshine warm as it flooded the city. “You know, this may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the project... or Rylen for that matter. To be honest, it’s quite nice.”

“Just  _ quite _ nice?”

He broke into a soft laugh, hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked back to her, the beginnings of colour at his cheeks. “It’s nice. Very nice.”

“ _ Very  _ nice now?” Caitlin laughed as he shook his head with a mutter, nudging him gently with her elbow. “Well, I’m glad we agree on that.”

Cullen simply chuckled again, holding the door to their block open for her before climbing the stairs alongside her. Her phone vibrated as they walked, Caitlin pulling it from her pocket -  _ Josephine. She’d have to wait.  _ Cullen’s voice pulled her from the screen, golden eyes looking at her expectantly. “So, when shall we meet next? Or try to, anyway…. It’s just, I’m on night duty this coming week from Monday, so unless you feel like a 3am meeting…”

They stopped as they reached their floor, Caitlin wrinkling her nose in jest. “I enjoy our time together, but I don’t know if I’m a sociable person at 3am, Cullen.” She wasn’t sure if the twitch of his ears and the brightening of his eyes was in response to her joke, or her admission of enjoying his company. 

“Well, in that case…” In one neat movement, Cullen took her phone, that same wide, boyish grin on his face as he typed his number in, before saving it and handing the phone back to her. “You can let me know when you are free, and drop in at some point during the evening if it suits. Also, when I inevitably have to leave our next meeting early, you can at least text me.”

The colour at his cheeks betrayed his rather confident demeanour, but his eyes said far more than he did. Caitlin nibbled at the corner of her lip, raising an eyebrow with a smile. “What would I text you to say?”

“Whatever you wanted to...” Cullen paused, looking as though he was about to say something else, something at the very tip of his tongue, before his expression changed and the moment was gone. “You would probably be within your rights to be annoyed that I have a habit of running away in the middle of our conversations and standing you up.”

“Never. Not while you are off saving lives.”

“Rescuing cats out of trees, you mean?”

“Well, if it’s you saying it…” They shared a laugh, Cullen fishing for the keys in his pocket as Caitlin crossed the hall to do the same. There was a silence as both keys met locks, and eyes met for a last time, silence holding them once more. He was the one who broke it, glancing away bashfully as he kicked open the door.

“Well...I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Good night, Cullen. I’ll text you.” As the door closed, Caitlin had unlocked her phone, staring at the number saved in it. He'd even had the cheek to put a smiley face next to it. It had been a bold move, in fairness to him - if she had been looking for a sign that he was not completely annoyed by her presence, this was surely it. She opened her text messages, quickly typing the briefest of messages and sending it.

_ Caitlin x _

It took a moment, enough time to discard her shoes and jacket, before she got her reply.

_ :D x _

 

She almost managed to forget him for the rest of the night, preparing her dinner and then soaking in the bath for what seemed like years after the long week. It wasn't until Caitlin was lying in bed that night, deliberately ignoring Josephine’s repeated asks for ‘any updates’ and writing up a final draft of her ‘Lifestyle’ piece for the weekend publication that he came back to her mind. That the Storm Coasters concert was already sold out for several months in advance, and Antivan carpets were the new ‘in’ thing were hardly her favourite topics to work on, and after saving the document, her mind wandered, interrupted by Josephine's persistent messages. That they’d made good progress on the start of the project was not enough for her prying friend, yet Caitlin was unwilling say anymore - chiefly because there _was_ nothign more, but also because she’d arrive at work on Monday to a bridal shower if the Antivan had the slightest hint she was right, and it was most certainly not what she needed to be spread as gossip. Flicking through her social media inanely, the ‘Suggested Friends’ sidebar caught her eye, and _ there he was _ .  It must have been the phone number that triggered it _.  _ He hadn’t particularly struck her as the social media type, but it was most definitely Cullen in the picture, petting a mabari dog no less, grinning away. How it suited him - that explained the boxers too.

Her finger hovered above ‘add’, nerves twisting furiously. What if she had entirely misread this? Was this breaching professional decorum, pressing on boundaries she really should know better than to try? Her tongue wet her lips, before pressing the button and immediately burying her face into her pillow, throwing the phone to the other side of the bed.  _ Maker _ , what was she doing? What if this went badly? It was, after all, completely possible, she was hardly  _ good _ at reading social situations. She’d make a complete fool of herself, and have to work with this man still, and it would be horrendous and awful and-

A soft vibration from her phone interrupted her inner monologue and Caitlin lifted it with apprehension, mind quickly silencing.

_ csrutherfire has accepted your friend request _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Some notes for clarity and ease.
> 
> The details in this are based fairly accurately upon the fire and rescue services here, where I live. A white helmet here usually means an incident commander or a watch manager/commander - basically, the guy in charge. A yellow helmet is your standard issue, and a yellow helmet with white front/visor is reserved for the second in command, who is usually in charge of one vehicle and it's crew. Also, with roles. A watch commander is also watch manager (one and the same), and basically is in charge of a watch, or shift. Above them, you'd have the station manager - I wonder who's got that promotion in our modern Thedas? (;
> 
> Anyway. Clarity notes and general geek-ness done.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed and please feel free to get in touch with any comments etc - all are most graciously received and welcomed!


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